


Visions of Such Sweet Days

by ghostiii



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Death, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Jean Kirstein Has Issues, Jean needs a hug, M/M, Modern Era, Nightmares, Short One Shot, no beta we die like erwin smith, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29702382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostiii/pseuds/ghostiii
Summary: The tears have stopped pouring, but his heart continues to weep. He distantly hears Marco's laughs, his sweet giggles and the charming lilt to his voice as he spoke to him, and Jean feels himself crumble a little bit more.OrMarco's death takes a toll on Jean.
Relationships: Marco Bott & Jean Kirstein, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	Visions of Such Sweet Days

**Author's Note:**

> I just remembered one of the weird ass dreams I had last year that made me unreasonably sad and decided to self-project because yuh, this is how we cope. I was listening to Sunsetz by Cigarettes After Sex while writing this and it's like, 4 AM. There's a lot of overused words here so it's kind of shit, sorry.

There were instances in Jean's life when he felt as though he was being suffocated. As if the air was being forcefully squeezed out of his lungs by ropes he can't seem to untangle, by ropes he can't even _see._

There were times when there was an overbearing weight in his chest that he can't rescind, and there were times he wished he'd shrivel up into nothing and disappear off the face of the Earth. There were days when the hands wrapped around his neck were too tight, and the walls of his room were a little too thick.

It was moments like this when Jean wishes he could find a way to lift the boulders weighing him down, keeping him restrained and locked in place.

He breathes in the sweet scent of flowers as he presses his back further into the grass surrounding him, his fingers curling around the hand resting on top of the dandelions and weeds to his left, the pad of his thumb gently caressing smooth, pale skin. The sky above was pink, the air was crisp and the clouds were ever so slow, moving with the wind as it brushed past them.

He feels the person next to him shift, their own palm pressing against Jean's as they sit up. Jean lets his eyes wander, appreciating the soft glimmer in the boy's honey brown irises, the way his freckles were prominent on his rosy cheeks, and the way his raven hair framed his face so neatly. He loves the way the sunset makes Marco look so _beautiful_ , almost heavenly, even. He squeezes the boy's hand back, their eyes locking.

Marco smiles fondly at him before he looks away, letting the tip of his fingers trace along the thin lines on Jean's palm.

"I wish it could always be like this, y'know?" He speaks, so delicate and quiet that it sets Jean's heart ablaze and leaves him basking in the warmth. Still, he snorts, "Like what? Skipping school every Friday and pissing Shadis off?"

"You say that as if you're not the one dragging me out all the time," Marco rolls his eyes and Jean grins lazily at him, "True, but you never say no."

"I can't say no to you even if I tried," Marco plays with his slim fingers, "You know that, Jean."

He does, and he simply hums in response, letting his eyelids close and exhaling contently. He feels Marco's lovely brown eyes on him, and he notices the way the raven's movements falter slightly.

Jean peers at him through one eye, his eyebrows knitting together as he closes them once more. "Something on your mind?" He asks.

Even with his eyes closed, he feels Marco smile as he responds with: "You."

"Cheeky bastard," Jean mutters and Marco lets out such a genuine, pleasant laugh that it almost hurt. _Breathe_ , he reminds himself when he feels his chest twist and tighten.

He opens his eyes once more to gaze at his lover, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The cool afternoon breeze brushes his strawberry blond hair back as he leans forward and catches Marco's cheek in the palm of his hand.

The boy leans into his touch and Jean's heart starts to pound wildly in his chest that he feels as though it'll pop out at any given moment. He exhales, feels the corners of his mouth tilt up a little as he closes the gap between them. Marco kisses him back so tenderly, his other hand curling into Jean's hair as their lips move in sync.

Jean feels right, like nothing could ever go wrong in the world, not when he has Marco here, holding him in such a way that made his heart skip a few beats. He feels right, _he feels at home._

But when Jean pulls away and opens his eyes, he feels the world around him fall apart once more, because the fingers intertwined with his were no longer there, and the euphoric feeling that had spread throughout his body had subsided. The spot beside him was empty, as if no one was ever there to begin with. His lips feel cold and so does his chest. The only thing keeping him warm are the steady tears streaming down his porcelain cheeks.

The sky is grey, the flowers are wilting and the trees are no longer swaying. Everything is still, the grass is untouched but the soil is tainted with salty tears. The coil wrapped around Jean's lungs squeeze the air out of him just a little bit more as softs sobs wrack his body.

 _Breathe,_ he reminds himself. Breathe, breathe, _breathe. Breathe, goddammit._

And he wakes up.

His eyes are a little blurry, and he feels something wet trail down his face.

The pillow below him is damp and he's covered in sweat from head to toe. His hair is sticking out in odd places and his limbs are aching and sore. His chest is tight, and it's a horribly familiar feeling he's grown used to. In other words, he feels like utter shit.

 _It's the same damn dream every time_ , he thinks bitterly, letting himself cry for a few more minutes, adjusting to the darkness of his room.

He manages to lift and arm up, wiping the tears blocking his vision. He frowns as he turns to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand.

5:18 AM, the red digits blink in the dark. The sun is barely up when Jean's eyes land on the window across the room. It's way too early to be bawling his eyes out like this.

He sighs, pushing the covers off his torso. He sits up and presses his back against the wall behind him.

The tears have stopped pouring, but his heart continues to weep as he stares down at his shaking hands, bits of the dream flashing in his mind. He distantly hears Marco's laughs, his sweet giggles and the charming lilt to his voice whenever he spoke to him, and Jean feels himself crumble a little bit more.

He cards his slim fingers through his hair, pressing his sweaty forehead against the palm of his hand. 

Without uttering another word, he hoists himself off the bed and groggily drags his ass over to the bathroom, thoughts of the raven-haired boy lingering his mind, ready to haunt him for the rest of the day.

It was moments like this when Jean would breathe in, but still feel suffocated.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I'm not quite sure how Marco dies, but in my dream the person kind of just disappeared and I just came up with something. This is scuffed and I have an exam tomorrow that I should be studying for fuckin have it anyway lmao.


End file.
